


The Pieces of My Heart Are Missing You (When You're Gone)

by flamefox428



Series: Bemily Week 2018 [7]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Bellas, Angst, Angst day, Apologies, Bemily Week 2018, Day 7, F/F, Like there is a lot of angst, This is just rude tbh, angst abound, death tw, mild depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:33:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamefox428/pseuds/flamefox428
Summary: "She wasn’t okay, and everyone knew it. Chloe and Stacie tiptoed around Beca like they were dancing on eggshells, and Beca always noticed the sad smiles they sent her way when they thought she wasn’t looking.It didn’t matter. None of it did."





	The Pieces of My Heart Are Missing You (When You're Gone)

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I am so sorry, this is hella angsty. My poor sweet angel babies don't deserve this, but I had to deliver. I lowkey almost cried while writing this holy. Angst day is gonna be a time and a half.

The brisk autumn air whispered through the shedding trees, their skeletal arms swaying back and forth in a macabre sort of dance. It has been cold for a while now, and the air smelled like mulch and the beginnings of frost, telltale signs that winter was coming.

As far as she could tell, Beca was the only one outside on that crisp Thursday. She had seen no one else since that morning, when she had woken up and crawled out of bed. She’d gone downstairs and made a cup of coffee, drinking it silently as she stood at the counter and looked out the window.

Chloe had appeared in the kitchen as Beca was finishing her coffee. She had said nothing, and neither did Beca, but Chloe had given her a sympathetic smile and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. Beca had looked blankly at her for a moment before going to the hallway and pulling on a jacket and boots. After a moment’s hesitation, she had pulled on a red scarf and a pair of mittens before stuffing a blue scarf into her pocket.

Without a word, she had left the house, strolling down the sidewalk and looking around at all the leaves fluttering in the early morning breeze.

The air was colder now and Beca pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, hoping to chase away the shivers. A sudden gust of wind blew past her and sent the ends of the scarf fluttering around her face as she tried to tame them. With an annoyed huff, she flicked the ends over her shoulder.

She walked through town, looking around at all the shops that advertised fresh goods and warm atmospheres. She passed a stand where a man was selling wreaths of autumn leaves, branches, and pinecones. The colours were beautiful and Beca almost walked right by before she stopped and picked one up. She rolled it around in her hands, inspecting every angle before deciding it was the one and handing cash over to the owner.

Without a word, she went on her way.

The wind had calmed down by now, though the air still had a cold bite to it. Beca closed her eyes for a second, imagining a warm hand in hers, and the thought soothed her. She blinked her eyes open again and shook the memory clear from her hand, pulling off her mittens. The cold air was a shock to her system and it grounded her again, chasing away the last fleeting tendrils of the memory.

She sighed before slipping her mittens back on. No point in freezing to death to prove a point.

What point would she be trying to prove anyway? That she was happy? That she was okay? That she could smile and act like everything was fine when inside it felt like she was being ripped to pieces every day?

She wasn’t okay, and everyone knew it. Chloe and Stacie tiptoed around Beca like they were dancing on eggshells, and Beca always noticed the sad smiles they sent her way when they thought she wasn’t looking.

It didn’t matter. None of it did.

Again, she felt the all too aching emptiness of the space next to her, and she hugged the wreath tighter to her chest.

Lost in her thoughts, Beca’s feet guided her on the familiar path down the street, tracing the one she took almost daily. She was vaguely aware of rounding a corner and walking through the old wrought iron gates, feeling hazy and lost and in between sleeping and waking.

She picked her way through the courtyard until she arrived at her destination. She sat down in the dewy grass, not caring that the moisture would soak through her pants eventually.

“I miss you, you know. I never stop thinking about you.”

It was the only time Beca ever spoke now, and it was always to a rock.

She shifted closer and leaned forward, placing the wreath gently in the grass in front of her. When she pulled off her mitten and placed her hand on the stone, it was cold to the touch, just like everything else.

A cold hard mass of stone that was supposed to represent all she was in life. A pitiful representation if someone asked her, but of course no one ever did.

“The others miss you too,” Beca said casually, as if she were just having a conversation with someone, but her voice was thick with unshed tears.

“I miss you every day,” she continued. “It’s like I can feel you right here beside me everywhere I go.”

She sighs and traces her fingers over the grooves carved into the stone, the familiar numbers and letters making her heart ache.

_Emily Junk_.

She wished they could have grown up together. She wished that Emily was around now to be part of the memories Beca was making in her absence. She hated seeing pictures of herself now, because she knew Emily’s face wouldn’t be there smiling back at her.

“I love you s-so much, Em,” Beca said, her voice breaking on the words as tears slipped from her eyes. Her hand dipped under the collar of her jacket and her fingers found the familiar golden ring that hung on the chain around her neck. The ring she would’ve given to Emily if she’d had enough time with her.

All too quickly, the memories of that night flooded back to her. The concert, laughing and dancing and singing until their throats were raw. Kissing under the stars and feeling like they were invincible and timeless and immortal. The drive home, the sky inky and the streetlights bright, and Emily’s eyes brighter still. Her fingers tangled in Emily’s as she drove. Their tender I love yous and forevers.

The red light, the horns blaring, the drunk driver and the collision, Emily’s smiling face the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness.

Hazily coming to in the middle of sirens screeching around her and a fireman cutting her out of her crushed and broken car. Emily’s lifeless bloody body beside her.

Beca felt a sudden wave of nausea and slammed her eyes shut against the memories, forcing them back until they were gone, replaced by a vague emptiness.

“Why did you have to go?” Beca asked weakly, suddenly feeling stupid for talking to a stone. But it was one of the last things she had left of the girl. “It’s not fair, why couldn’t it have been me instead?”

Against her will, the memories flooded back again and Beca remembered her own screams and cries as Emily was rushed away in an ambulance. She remembered feeling like the air was being ripped from her lungs until she was suffocating and choking and dying herself.

“She’s going into shock, get her away from here!” An EMT had yelled, but everything had sounded funny and faraway to Beca, like the voices were talking to her under water.

“Is there someone we can call?” Another EMT had asked her. Beca didn’t remember responding or giving him her phone or even the ride to the hospital, but the next thing she knew she was in a hospital bed, hooked to different machines as Stacie and Chloe cried over her.

“Emily,” Beca had mumbled. “Where’s Emily?”

“Becs, I’m so sorry,” Stacie had sobbed, clutching Beca’s hand like a lifeline. Beca remembered the bile and pure panic that had risen in her throat.

“Emily,” she had repeated, frantic and on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

“Beca,” Chloe had said, too soft, too gentle. “She didn’t make it." 

The wind had begun to pick up again and Beca shivered. The wet grass had finally started to soak through her pants and it chilled her to the bone. She pulled the blue scarf from her pocket, leaning forward to tie it carefully around the headstone. Vague memories of Emily tying a scarf around Beca’s own neck tickled at the edges of her subconscious.

“Stay warm okay? I promise I’ll be back tomorrow,” Beca told the stone. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

She stood up and brushed the wet leaves off her legs, casting one last look down at the stone.

“Emily Mitchell. It would’ve been perfect,” Beca said, before turning and leaving.

Her feet retraced the steps she had taken to get there, her body on autopilot as her mind drifted. She felt as dead as the leaves that rotted away beneath her feet. 

Somehow, thank god, she made it back home. She shed her outer layers and dropped them on the floor, not caring in the slightest that she was leaving them there for Chloe to pick up. She bypassed Chloe and Stacie in the kitchen, not saying a word as she went up to Emily’s room, ignoring the cold emptiness of her own.

She flopped down in Emily’s bed, kicking off her wet pants and tugging the blanket up over her head. It was almost uncomfortably warm, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She felt her emotional exhaustion catching up to her and she closed her eyes against the fresh wave of tears that soaked into the pillowcase under her head. Emily always used to sleep with a worn brown bear, its fur thin and patchy in places from years and years of love. Beca tucked the bear into her arms absently and gulped in deep breaths of air as she began to sink into the haze right before sleep.

If she imagined hard enough, she could feel those warm arms wrapping around her and keeping her safe like they always had.

She focused on that feeling and held it close to her heart as she finally drifted off to sleep.


End file.
